


What are We to Do?

by Mavryk_Company



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavryk_Company/pseuds/Mavryk_Company
Summary: As time passes, frozen in place by ice that threatens their very shelter, Irving fights growing feelings of helplessness. Fortunately, there is another lieutenant on board who shares these feelings and wants to push them away, for the both of them.





	1. Ignore

The weather was worsening rapidly, with howling winds battering the side of the ship. Visibility was next to nothing in these conditions, and those on watch cursed their misfortunes as they paced to and fro in an effort to keep warm. Below deck, the men were wandering in extra scarves with arms wrapped around themselves. Business as usual, for most.

 

But the lieutenants aboard the Terror were privy to information that the majority of the roster were not. As though a roster still existed, here. Most men had abandoned Terror for Erebus, and few wandered the halls unless they had to. It made their work easier, less men to manage, less men to hide their Captain’s behavior from. None dare say it in his presence, of course, but all three whispered in the halls after exiting the room, shared worried glances when listening to his flawed thoughts, and kept their heads down.

 

It was after such a meeting that Irving felt his mood dampened more than usual. He wandered to his room before standing at the door, knowing how to open it, but not being able to do it. So he just stood, in the hall, looking like he had taken a wrong turn and just now realized that where he had ended up was not where he wanted to be. Which could technically be true, all things considered. Little, though, took notice of this, and backtracked after walking by, his boots echoing on the wooden boards as he came closer. He understood just as well what was causing this, as he has felt the same the previous night. 

 

“We’ll manage.” Edward reassured with a smile, clasping the other’s shoulder firmly. When he pulled his hand away, John could still feel the lingering warmth of the touch, and the undeniable churn of guilt in his stomach. His mind fought him on which to focus on, the pleasant or the miserable, before he raised a hand and brought it to his shoulder. He’d focus on this, he decided. At least for now.

 

But as he busied himself with his work, rummaging through inventories written with a weary hand, the warmth faded, and all he was left with was a sickening feeling. A feeling that gnawed at his stomach and mind, accompanied only by the thought that he was doing something wrong. He tried to rationalize with himself, those thoughts, that there was nothing wrong with friendship. With reassurance and comfort. There was no reason for the guilt lingering on his mind. 

 

And yet it did not leave.  So he paused in his work, a hand flat on the desk before him as he used it to brace himself. His free hand wandered to his necklace, holding it firmly as he took a deep breath. The action, one he had repeated many times before, lessened his thoughts and fears when his own conscious could not. And so it did, once again. He busied his hands with his work, and once he was finished with the papers and books, he moved on to performing his rounds and reporting to the captain and other lieutenants.

 

But he could not ignore the gentle smile of Edward, as they passed each other in the halls. Or the slight nod as all three lieutenants stood in the captain’s cabin, gathered around to deliver reports. A nod, not an affirmation of a question unanswered, but a confirmation that yes, we will be alright. 

 

And as they retired to their own cabins for the night, the cold winter wind whipping the ship’s hull, their frozen coffin slowly crushing the only shelter they had, John could not ignore the way Edward had knocked on his door moments before he crawled into bed for the night. How he had let him in, the many apologies spoken if he had imposed.

 

Nonsense, nonsense, he had told his superior. But he could not ignore the way Little’s eyes shifted, as if he were trying to find the words to what he wanted to say. How he had smiled sheepishly before giving Irving a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder, then another on his upper arm. He could not ignore the warmth that radiated from his friend on that winter night. As he lay down in his bunk, exchanging pleasant, albeit quiet, conversation, he could not ignore how, once he was settled beneath the covers, a weight found itself planted on the edge of the bed.

 

Then Edward leaned slightly, in his direction, and ever so gently planted a hand on his arm. He lifted it without hesitation as the muscles underneath his fingers tensed in surprise, but found it within himself to try once more. This time, John relaxed under his touch, as Edward began with gentle circles, before sliding his hand to rub his back. He was warm. A welcome warmth, one that could not be accomplished with the blankets he had wrapped himself in. 

 

Though the sickening feeling had begun to return the moment he had let Edward in, he decided, that between the soft words, the gentle movements, and the pleasant warmth, he could ignore it.

 

* * *

 

 

When he awoke the following morning, rolling onto his side with a content sigh, John was unsure whether what had transpired was reality or a dream brought on by the cold. He sunk under his covers for a few moments more, face buried in his pillow as he tried to conceive a reason as to stay in his bunk all day. Soon though, he rose and dressed himself, straightening his cap in the small mirror before sliding open his wooden door, a sense of dread already washing over him. Their situation was worsening by the day, and as their captain sunk further into his vices, the lieutenants were left to reel in the slack.

 

He had just barely slid his door back into place when another slid open, and he turned on his heel just in time to lock eyes with Edward, his hair slightly disheveled and his face tired. But as he saw Irving a smile graced his lips. He turned, quickly, and closed his door before returning to face his friend.

 

“John, good morning.” His voice quiet, but a gentle happiness flowed into his words from his smile.

 

“Edward.” He greeted back, his own smile faltering ever so slightly as he remembered the night before. The way he had drifted off into a peaceful and much needed sleep, Edward continuing to speak softly to him even as his own replies dwindled down to nothing. He found he was clenching his hands and rubbing his fingers with his thumb, a nervous habit he had been unable to break, a habit he was sure Edward had noticed.

 

“How did you sleep?” It an innocent question to prying ears, but both men knew it was not as simple as it sounded. It was not an inquiry on how he slept that night, it was most similar to a plea, I pray you do not regret last night. 

 

“Well, very well, in fact. Better than I have in months.” Came his reply, in a way that surprised even him. It was honest, an answer not weighed in his mind before he spoke it, unlike most of what came out of his mouth.

 

This news only fueled Edward’s smile further, and he once again clasped Irving’s shoulder before shaking him gently.

 

“Good to hear!” He grinned, his body much more relaxed, and John couldn’t help but allow himself to relax under his touch. 

 

The conversations they shared on their way to the deck, then towards breakfast were largely one sided, led by Little as he moved first through the narrow halls. He gave John plenty of room to talk, to respond, interact, and question, but it was he who did the bulk of speech. 

 

Irving, as he followed, fought back the same feeling he had the day before. A pang of guilt, of hypocrisy, a shadow that hung in the back of his mind as he smiled at the other man.  It was a feeling that remained even after they had arrived, sitting opposite each other as breakfast was brought to them by a tired looking Jopson; the steward loyally refilling drinks as he hovered in the corners of the room.

 

Though he was hungry, Irving did not eat to satiate himself, he ate to distract from the feeling which lingered. His hopes that it would recede with his hunger proved to be pointless, for each time his eyes caught the eyes of the man across from him, it deepened. But so did the knowledge that there was a man here, in this frozen wasteland, who genuinely cared for him.

 

So he sipped his tea and joined in the conversations, and when Edward would smile at him, he would smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never noticed before I saw a gifset on Tumblr, but just before Jopson's promotion Edward puts his hand on Irving's leg and just. keeps it there.  
> Been mulling over a fic about the two of them for a while, and finally decided to write it!


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward only wants to comfort his friend, if he would let him.

It was easy for him to see John’s conflict, his inner turmoil about the actions they performed in secret. Never drastic, such things must be taken slow with a man like Irving, and Edward was more than willing to wear his patience on his coat on the matter. He had hoped it was evident in his words, the gentleness of his movements and the space he gave for when the other wanted it. He cared for him. He cared deeply. And so he took it slow, always with something familiar, a pat on the back, a hand on his shoulder.

 

He offered his comfort in the form of withholding, by respecting John’s tightly drawn boundaries, and by smiling fondly when his friend seemed like he could use it. During the day, he would only engage in conversation if he seemed up to it, and would take note of his demeanor. It was easy for him to realize the nervous ticks, how he would reach for his necklace before hastily noticing his own action. The avoided eye contact. And during those moments, those hours, he would leave him be. Part him with comforting words in passing.

 

And when Irving had done what he needed to do, when he was ready and smiling once again, Edward was there with a smile of his own. Because he wanted the other lieutenant to be happy, and he wanted to be part of the reason why. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he grew more confident with every laugh he managed out of the other man, grew more patient when he would seek him out after momentary avoidance. 

 

Imagine his surprise, barely concealed, when it was Irving who knocked on his door, rather than the other way around, as it had been. He stood there, in the hall, with arms uncomfortably at his side, dressed still in full uniform; his gaze shifting from the ground to the ceiling and quickly everything in between. He had let him in wordlessly, after a moment.

 

Both men stood quietly, John’s eyes locked on the ground, Edward’s on his friend. “Is everything alright?” He finally asked.

 

“Fine,” he replied instantly, out of habit more than honesty. He sighed as he removed his hat, running a hand through his hair before continuing, “I’m just...cold.”

 

Edward, who had already planted himself on his bed, slid to one side to make space. A quick gesture, an invitation, and John moved across the room to sit beside the first lieutenant, who shifted so that their shoulders were touching. Irving sighed, closing his eyes as he hung his head, in exhaustion or shame Edward could not tell. And that is how they remained, in the small room, pressed just close enough to feel the radiating warmth of the other.

 

Though, the night was full of surprises, and just as Edward’s eyes began to flutter shut, as he sat, he felt Irving shift, moving as the weight of his body pressed closer, his head turned just slightly to rest light on Edward’s shoulder. He risked a glance, and found John almost slumped against him, tired both physically and mentally, no doubt ready for the voyage home. The voyage which will likely never happen.

 

All had their doubts, of course, about a thaw. The leads remaining frozen, the ship’s stuck, just discolored outcroppings of ice dotting the pack. But Crozier’s skepticism, and Blanky’s expert word had reach the lieutenants first. They had their doubts before, yes, but now, in this winter, all they could imagine was living out the rest of the lives in this forsaken nowhere, their families not even knowing what had become of them.

 

It was this knowledge that drove Edward to dislodge his arm from between John’s body and his own, to carefully wrap it around the other man’s shoulder and pull him close. Irving made no attempt to free himself from this embrace, only mumbling an agreement or a thanks before turning his head into Little’s nightshirt. There were no words spoken between the two of them, or any quiet sounds to break the silence. It wasn’t until John’s breathing had grew slow and heavy that Edward dare to breath himself, for running the risk of awakening a dozing friend seemed irresponsible to him. 

 

And when he did finally move, he moved carefully and methodically, gently lowering the other man onto the bed, deciding that he could take his room for the night. He pulled the covers up to the best of his ability before retreating into the room across from his, empty, but not ownerless. The only person left on board who might notice the room shift would be Jopson, but Edward trusted the steward enough to drop the matter once discovered. And it was a risk he was willing to take to allow John a good nights rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this chapter is shorter than the last! The next chapter will most likely be a shorter one too, with the 4th finally getting longer again.


End file.
